


Flick of the Wrist

by kinole009x



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1980s Era Queen (Band), Dark, Epic Friendship, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Halloween, Heavy Angst, Hurt Roger Taylor (Queen), Implied/Referenced Sex, Near Death Experiences, Physical Abuse, Possession, Protective Brian May, Protective Freddie Mercury, Protective John Deacon, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinole009x/pseuds/kinole009x
Summary: It's Halloween.  Roger has been possessed by a dark lustful fairy and there's only one person who can save him when the town of Salem declares him a witch.But that one person is harboring a terrible secret of his very own.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	Flick of the Wrist

The moon was red as blood the night Roger first gave himself to the fae in the wood.  
  
Brian had warned him time and time again not to look for romance in dark places. Brian had advised him to think twice about surrendering to lust in the dirt. But Roger had ignored this well meaning advice for one simple reason.  
  
He was hopelessly bored.  
  
Roger and his mates lived in a small cottage at the very edge of the town of Salem, right on the crest of the woods. They spent their days immersed in their respective vocations; Brian as a teacher of astrology to the town's children and Freddie as a portraitist to the town's wealthier population. John worked on various engineering problems for the town's inhabitants, while Roger made house calls as the town dentist, curing toothaches and pulling rotten teeth.   
  
And though they'd gather every night around the hearth to smoke, drink, and make music, it was still a mundane existence at best and Roger craved something a bit more exciting.  
  
But now, where were we?  
  
Oh, right. Moon red as blood. Fae in the deep, dark woods.  
  
The dark fairy's ethereal voice tapped on Roger's bedroom window before it slithered through a crack in the wall to run an enticing finger down Roger's jawline.   
  
Knocking before entering. How fucking polite, as Freddie would say.  
  
The voice rivaled Freddie's in beauty, which was certainly saying something. Filled with an overwhelming - and quite frankly alarming - longing to find the owner of that voice, Roger slipped quietly from the bed he shared with Brian and tiptoed into the parlor.  
  
The grandfather clock in the corner struck the witching hour, making Roger jump with fright. It was enough to break the spell; the voice vanished and Roger was left standing in a cold, dark room.  
  
Cursing under his breath, he turned towards the bedroom, with every intention of going back to sleep. However, the sound of the dead bolt being forced back and the front door creaking open made him spin around.  
  
There was nobody there.  
  
Creeping to the door, he peeked out into the night. The October moon shed an alien crimson light upon the dirt encrusted pumpkins that were scattered across the front yard, turning them into red, forbidding jack-o-lanterns that appeared to be grinning evilly at him.  
  
But Roger had no time to worry about this particular illusion; the glorious voice was piercing the air once again, inviting him to come hither as it spun him in an invisible web of silky desire.  
  
Drunk on the voice's pleasing tone, Roger stumbled over the pumpkins, around the small cottage, and into the cornfield that led to the woods.  
  
It was almost as if the forest was alive. Crooked black trees reached for him, their twisted branches catching the homespun fabric of his nightshirt. Roots in the dirt seemingly appeared out of nowhere to grab his ankles. Frustrated, and driven by an urgency to be one with the voice, Roger broke into a run.  
  
The voice suddenly morphed into an ear-splitting scream that echoed through the trees. Anyone in their right mind would have passed the sound off as the howl of a wild animal, but Roger was not in his right mind. To Roger, it might as well have been the shriek of a banshee.  
  
Entirely wrapped in his fear, Roger chanced a glance over his shoulder, before tripping over a rock that he could have sworn hadn't been there before. He tumbled into a softly shimmering pool of water.  
  
"You don't need to fear the woods, Roger," the voice, smooth as spun sugar, said gently.  
  
Roger whipped around to find the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life staring back at him.  
  
Her long, black hair swept her pale white shoulders, framing a face with large, dark eyes and pretty lashes. Her slim figure was adorned in black silk; her voice held the slightest lilt of a French accent.  
  
The glow that surrounded her entire body was the color of dying roses.  
  
And even though Roger was very quickly falling in love with her, he had enough sense to know she wasn't human.  
  
"What are you?" he whispered.  
  
The woman approached Roger, a mischievous smile dancing upon her lips. Her voice reverberated pleasantly off the wet rocks as she stepped into the water.  
  
"I'm a fairy, Roger. Have you ever been loved by a fairy before?"  
  
Roger swallowed hard, shaking his head.  
  
She placed her hands on his soaked shoulders and ran her palms lightly down his chest. "Would you like to be?"  
  
Brian's voice chose this particular moment to invade Roger's conscience. In the most unwelcome of ways, as was typical of Brian, it warned him that this wasn't natural.  
  
 _There are strange things in the woods, Roger. Do yourself - and me - a favor, won't you? Don't look for love in dark places._  
  
Roger was prepared to reluctantly decline the fairy's offer until she pressed her lips insistently against his, freeing his conscience and making up his mind for him.  
  
 _And if you must have yourself a grand ole' time at the whorehouse, then so be it. But don't surrender to lust in the dirt._  
  
Shivering, Roger nodded his assent. The fairy smiled and grasped his left wrist with pleasantly cool fingers.  
  
After all, it wasn't his fault if Brian didn't know how to have a good time.  
  
And this was water. Not dirt.  
  
\---  
  
It was dawn when Roger finally staggered out of the woods and tottered through the cornfield, his left wrist burning fiercely and his entire body tingling with a pleasure that he had never before known. After greeting the morning by tripping over a pumpkin and falling flat on his face, he managed to find his way into the cottage.  
  
Brian looked up from his steaming cup of tea and furrowed his brows. "Why are you wet?"  
  
 _Don't look for love in dark places, Roger._  
  
Roger squirmed against the faint feeling of guilt that twinged his chest. Deciding it was much easier to ignore Brian, he disappeared into the bedroom.  
  
He stripped off his damp clothes as quietly as he dared, though there was really no need to take such precautions. A coven of shrieking witches couldn't have woken Freddie on a Saturday morning. And Deaky...  
  
Well, Deaky was nowhere to be found.  
  
Crawling into bed, Roger let out a dramatic sigh of satisfaction before he itched at the burning sensation on his skin.  
  
The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was a dark mark on his wrist. The jagged black line looked very much like a crown.  
  
\---  
  
"They call her...the Killer Queen."  
  
Freddie paused for dramatic effect, to infuse a bit of suspense into his fireside ghost tale. When he saw that Roger wasn't paying any attention to him, he frowned.  
  
Brian raised his eyebrows politely. "Yes? And who exactly is the Killer Queen, Fred?"  
  
"Roger!" Freddie exclaimed. "Are you or are you not listening?"  
  
Roger turned away from the window and scowled. "I'm _not_ listening."  
  
And it was the truth. Roger had no desire to be confined to the candlelit parlor with Freddie and Brian, telling _ghost_ stories. His desire was to be in the woods, with his love, just like he had every night for the past three weeks.  
  
But it was too early for that. She wouldn't summon him with her song for at least another four hours.

Before Freddie could scold Roger for his inattention, the front door opened with a ghastly groan and John quietly crept into the cottage.  
  
Freddie nearly fell against the mantle in relief. _"There_ you are! At last, a worthy audience! Deaky will appreciate my tale, won't you, darling?"  
  
In all honesty, John looked like he'd benefit more from a good night's sleep than a ghost story. But he managed a small, almost nonexistent smile as he shrugged out of his jacket, hung it on the peg on the wall, and sat in the rocking chair in the corner, giving Freddie his undivided attention.  
  
Brian's green eyes were brimming with concern as he carefully observed the dark circles under John's eyes, as well as Roger's restless fingers. "You both look rather exhausted. Perhaps we should turn in early."  
  
"Sneaking out in the middle of the night, are we, darlings?" Freddie asked gleefully.  
  
Roger narrowed his piercing blue eyes suspiciously. There was no way Freddie could have known that! He had been so _careful,_ making sure not to leave for the woods until after everyone had fallen asleep. And after running into Brian that very first morning, he always returned well before dawn.  
  
John, on the other hand, had gone slightly pale.  
  
"Let me guess," Freddie addressed John, his voice low with excitement. "You've begun courting that lovely young lady who works for the church!"  
  
John glanced down at his hands, but not before his mates witnessed the pained expression on his face.  
  
Roger hurriedly changed the subject before Freddie could incriminate them all. "You might as well get on with your tale about the Killer Queen, Freddie."  
  
Freddie's eyes gleamed. "Ah, yes. The darkest fairy to ever roam these woods."  
  
Fingers of unease prodded Roger's belly, making him vastly uncomfortable. "Fairy?"  
  
"Yes, darling. The Killer Queen is a dark spirit who lures men into the woods with her song, late at night."  
  
Roger grasped the windowsill to steady himself. Surely that couldn't be _his_ fairy.  
  
"All right there, Roger?" Brian asked. "You're gaping like a fish."  
  
Roger quickly closed his mouth and irritably waved Brian's concern away.  
  
Quite satisfied that he had Roger's attention at last, Freddie continued.  
  
"In order to successfully lure in her victims, the Killer Queen takes the form of the person her victim is most attracted to in real life, whether that be their spouse, lover, or a stranger they've never dared talk to."  
  
Roger frowned. It _was_ true that his fairy resembled a lovely French woman he had met so long ago...  
  
Freddie interpreted Roger's expression as skepticism. "Oh, come now, darling, it makes perfect sense. You wouldn't give yourself to a fairy who looked like Brian, would you?"   
  
Brian opened his mouth to argue, but Freddie was already enthusiastically proceeding with his tale. "No matter! Once the Killer Queen has her victim, she mesmerizes them until they're so tongue-tied, they submit to her will."  
  
Becoming more alarmed by the moment, Roger acknowledged that his fairy _did_ have the uncanny ability to make him dumbstruck, even though he had never, ever been shy around pretty women before.  
  
"Surely those men are given the opportunity to exercise their free will," Brian said reasonably, "and resist her."  
  
"Hardly," Freddie said airily. "Once she's singed them with her dark mark, they return to her, night after night after night, a prisoner of desire."  
  
At the very mention of the dark mark, the jagged line on Roger's wrist began to throb. He slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, as he realized...  
  
...his fairy might very well be the Killer Queen.  
  
He thought he had been thriving on the love of a beautiful fairy, but now that Freddie was putting things so inconveniently into perspective...perhaps it was nothing but a dark obsession.  
  
"Roger, darling, you look ill," Freddie remarked, before turning his attention to John. "And you, my dear, look unimpressed."  
  
John, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed, stared at Freddie from under dark eyebrows and said nothing.  
  
"How do they escape her?" Roger whispered. "How do they make it stop?"  
  
Relishing the climax of his story, Freddie hovered menacingly before the crackling flames of the hearth.   
  
"They _don't,_ darling. Once marked, they are hers for life."  
  
But Roger was persistent. "But if they try to resist?"  
  
"If they try to resist, they'll see the beast within her rise. She's been known to dislocate spines. Take an arm here, a leg there. A dig in the ribs and then a kick in the head. But ultimately..."  
  
Roger leaned forward with wide eyes.  
  
"...she eats their hearts out," Freddie finished solemnly.  
  
John swiftly got to this feet and disappeared into the kitchen, just as Roger let out a strangled noise deep within his throat.  
  
Freddie shrugged, as if to say quite clearly, _I don't make the rules, dear._ "Flick of the wrist and you're dead, baby. Blow her a kiss and you're mad."  
  
Roger's terrified gaze sought the window, expecting to see the Killer Queen floating above the trees. But the moon only showed him the dark forest - once so enchanting, now so sinister.  
  
A hiss in Roger's ear made him jump unexpectedly. _"Don't look back!"_  
  
Roger pushed Freddie away. "Oh, sod off, won't you!"  
  
Brian sighed. "Roger, it's not real. It's just a tale meant to keep unfaithful husbands home at night."  
  
Freddie had reluctantly agreed, but Roger wasn't convinced. And worst of all, he couldn't tell them about his experience because they'd prevent him from going to the woods.  
And even though she was a dark fairy, even though she was a Killer Queen, Roger _needed_ to see her. The longing was already bubbling in his stomach, despite what he now knew to be true.  
  
Even so, after everyone had retired to bed, Roger spent an hour in the washroom, dousing his wrist with soap and water as he tried to scrub off the dark mark.  
  
It made no difference. The mark remained and the dark fairy called for him at the same time as always.  
  
Roger pulled a pillow over his head to block out her song, but it was no use. His resistance was overpowered by the frightening impulse to go to her. Rolling out of bed, he crept silently into the parlor...  
  
...and quickly ducked back into the bedroom when he realized he wasn't alone.  
  
For there, leaning against the kitchen table, was Deaky, a glass of vodka in his shaking hands. And though Deaky's back was turned, Roger knew he'd never make it to the front door without being seen. Nothing ever got past Deaky, intoxicated or not.  
  
Running his trembling fingers through his hair, Roger restlessly paced the bedroom, the dark fairy's unrelenting voice making his ears ring. When he could no longer stand it, he checked to make sure Freddie and Brian were sound asleep, before he crawled out the window and ran through the cornfield.  
  
By the time he reached the woods, his dread had been replaced by exhilaration.  
  
\---  
  
And yet, Roger's beautiful fairy didn't love him that night.   
  
In fact, she _punished_ him. She had sensed his resistance and taken it to heart. She had wailed into the night, she had pushed him into the pond, and she had made him bleed.  
  
An hour later, Roger emerged from the cornfield, one arm cradling his ribs and his opposite wrist held against his nose to stem the flow of blood. He shivered as the night air caressed his wet skin.  
  
The distinct sound of a twig cracking in half made Roger spin around, fearful that the fairy had returned to deliver more retribution. Squinting in the darkness, he could vaguely distinguish the figure of a man leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.  
  
"For Christ's sake, Deaky!" Roger hissed. "What are you doing lurking in the dark!"  
  
John used his heel to push himself from the tree. As he approached, he didn't seem one bit surprised to see Roger's grimace of pain or the blood that was dripping onto his white linen shirt.  
  
"Where've you been?" he asked in a low voice.  
  
Roger cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, you see..."  
  
"...p-please don't lie," John whispered.  
  
Roger neatly sidestepped the question with an insightful observation. "Weren't you drunk in the kitchen before?"  
  
"I'm not drunk," John said quietly. "I was waiting to see if you'd leave in the middle of the night. I saw the look on your face when Freddie was telling his story."  
  
Roger uselessly tried to snort the blood that still flowed from his nose back from whence it came. He was finding it exceedingly difficult to meet John's gaze.  
  
"You went to see the Killer Queen, didn't you." It wasn't even a question; John had stated a pure fact that he already knew to be true.  
  
Roger took a deep breath, fully prepared to argue, before exhaustion deflated his pride. After all, he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in nigh on three weeks.  
  
"I love her," he said simply, his shoulders slumped.  
  
Alarm flashed briefly through John's eyes. "Roger, that's not _love."  
  
_ "How would you know!" Roger shot back.  
  
John's fingers lightly trailed along his own sleeved forearm. "Because she h-hurt you."  
  
Roger stared at the cornfield as his eyes welled up with an irritating moisture, sent directly from his lacerated heart.   
  
Finally, he swept his sleeve across his bloody nose and looked at John with eyes that were sparkling with desperate tears of disbelief.  
  
"Deaky, look what she's done to me!"  
  
John may have been the shyest of the four mates in the woodside cottage, and he may have been the most reserved, but he didn't hesitate to pull Roger into a fierce, protective hug.  
  
And though Roger considered himself tough and entirely capable of handling his own emotions, he found himself sobbing giant crocodile tears onto Deaky's shoulder because he was so goddamned tired and his entire body ached.   
  
And because he knew, as Deaky did, that he would return to the fairy the next night. And the night after. And the night after that.  
  
It was John who took Roger home that night, John who led him safely around the pumpkins, John who forced him to drink a tall glass of rum.  
  
It was John who handed Roger a cloth filled with ice, John who scrubbed the blood off the floor, John who tucked him into bed beside a softly snoring Brian.  
  
And it was John who made him promise he wouldn't go running back to the Killer Queen ever again.  
  
\---  
  
It was around this time that a raging storm of hysteria descended upon the town of Salem. The villagers whispered in frightened, hushed tones about _the dark one_ that was bringing sickness to the streets, turning neighbor against neighbor, and infiltrating the woods with mysterious lights. Town meetings were filled with outraged cries against the wicked one that was spreading impurity throughout the village.  
  
On the night the town officials sent their most able bodied men into the woods to hunt witches, Roger very quietly opened his bedroom window and stuck a leg out, with every intention of returning to the dark fairy. He had ignored her calls for three nights; surely, he'd be punished, but it was no less than what he deserved for abandoning her...  
  
Torches bobbed through the trees in the distance, but Roger didn't care. Her voice was crystal clear, like water, and he could almost convince himself there was a note of forgiveness in it, and...  
  
Fingers grasped his shirt and yanked him back into the room. Roger's fall was cushioned by a long, lithe body; rolling over, he found himself face to face with John.  
  
"You promised," John whispered through gritted teeth, before he shoved Roger onto the nearest bed.  
  
The impact of the fall had caused John's left sleeve to slide halfway up his forearm; he swiftly pulled it down to his fingers as he called for Brian and Freddie.  
  
Folding his arms, John fixed Roger with an unnerving stare. "T-tell them where you've been every night."  
  
Roger's chest ached with the sting of betrayal. "You _swore_ my secret was safe with you!"  
  
John's fingers tightened on his arms. "That was before you just s-showed me that you need more protection than I can give!"  
  
Brian stepped forward, his hands held out placatingly, as if he feared his two mates would attempt to throttle each other. "What's this all about?"  
  
"What if the witch hunters had caught you?" John exclaimed softly. "They would have h-hanged you, Roger!"  
  
"Witch hunters?" Freddie frowned, before he turned to Roger and demanded, "Darling, have you been consorting with strange women in the wood?"  
  
Roger glared at John. John met his gaze calmly.  
  
"If you don't tell them, I will," he said simply.  
  
"Fine!" Roger exploded as he sprang from the bed. "I've been meeting the fairy at night in the woods!" He rounded on John. "Now that my secret is out, why don't you tell us _yours!"_  
  
John flinched as if he had been slapped.  
  
"Oh, yes, Deaky," Roger spat. "Did you think I didn't notice? Tell us where _you've_ been going at night! Tell us what _you_ have been hiding on your left arm!"  
  
John's upper lip curled derisively as his gray eyes, usually as calm as still water, suddenly raged like the boiling waves of a stormy sea. Turning on his heel, he left the room, slamming the door with a force that made the walls shake.  
  
As Freddie begged for more details, and Brian tried his best to understand why his warning had been so blatantly ignored, Roger collapsed onto the bed and dropped his head into his hands.   
  
If he was being honest with himself, the dark anger on John's face had made his toes curl. And he didn't know how Deaky had managed to so effortlessly silence him without a single word.  
  
\---  
  
After that moment, Freddie and Brian joined forces with John to make sure Roger remained confined to the cottage every night. They took turns keeping watch over him as he slept, to ensure he wouldn't try to escape. And whoever wasn't keeping watch slept with Roger in his bed.  
  
Three in a bed was certainly a crowd, of that Roger was sure. Though it _was_ rather warm, and under different circumstances it might have even been cozy, at the moment it was just plain stifling. Trapped between two bodies and interlocked between four arms, Roger tartly congratulated his mates on their ability to imprison a free man.  
  
He needn't have bothered; he only received a lecture from Brian, a pinch in the arse from Freddie, and Deaky's stony glare.  
  
And so, every night Roger twitched restlessly between two of his mates as he listened to the dark fairy call for him. Every night, he growled under his breath as he felt eyes watching his every move.  
  
The night before Halloween, Roger devised a sinister plan to finally free himself.  
  
It was quite easy, actually. All he had to do was tempt Freddie into a celebratory mood by offering him glass after glass of champagne. And by the time they had all retired to bed, and Freddie had settled himself into a chair by the door for the first watch, his bladder was fit to burst.  
  
With the fairy's voice echoing in his ears, Roger watched as Freddie hurried off to the loo _again._ And then, very slowly and very carefully, Roger rolled onto his belly and inched his way out from the cage that his mates' arms had formed around him.  
  
He almost made it to the foot of the bed when a hand clamped itself over his arm. Roger shook it away irritably; he wasn't going to let _anything_ stop him after he'd gotten this far.  
  
"I have to piss, Deaky!" he lied. "Surely you can't deny me that one small freedom!"  
  
To Roger's astonishment, John let him go. No doubt he thought Freddie was there in the room to make sure Roger didn't run away.  
  
With his heart in his throat, Roger crept out of the bedroom, past the washroom, and out the front door.  
  
\---  
  
It didn't take long for them to realize Roger was missing. Freddie had returned from the washroom and promptly panicked, his irate shouts startling John and Brian out of their slumber.  
  
In a swirl of cloaks and hastily pulled on boots, they were out the door and running through the cornfield, the harsh whisper of corn leaves filling the air as the three men combed through the long stalks.  
  
The glow of a torch floated through the trees up ahead, followed by a harsh shout. Brian roughly pushed Freddie and John to the ground.  
  
"They're going to find him," Freddie moaned inconsolably to a nearby cob of corn. "They're going to capture him and it'll be all my fault!"  
  
John dug his fingernails into the dirt and slithered out from beneath Brian. "N-no, they won't. I'm going to find him before they do."  
  
Brian reached out and grasped John's left arm. "We're not going to let you go by yourself, Deaky."  
  
John carefully extracted his arm from Brian's grasp. "Stay here and distract the witch hunters if they come too close."  
  
Brian opened his mouth to object but John interrupted him.  
  
"P-please, Brian!"  
  
"But how will you know where to find Roger?" Freddie protested, his eyes desperate with worry.  
  
John's face was grim. "I'll know."  
  
\---  
  
Roger was exactly where John expected he would be.  
  
His body was draped over the slimy rock wall beside the shimmering pond. And hovering over him was the beautiful young woman who worked at the town's church.  
  
Veronica, that was her name.   
  
She looked up as John approached, her soft blonde hair falling over her shoulders as an angelic smile lit up her face.  
  
"Hi John."  
  
Though the very sight of her made John's knees weak, he forced himself to resist her charms.  
  
 _It's not really her,_ he reminded himself. _It's just the dark fairy.  
_  
Veronica would never have her hand flat against Roger's bare breast, preparing to rip his heart from his chest.  
  
John forced his trembling voice out into the open. "Leave him be!"  
  
The dark fairy tilted her head as she observed him curiously. "He resisted me. You, more than anyone, should know what happens when you resist, John."  
  
John sunk to his knees and inched closer to Roger. "It was my f-fault. I trapped him in the cottage."  
  
The dark fairy raised her eyebrows. "Oh? And whyever would you do that?"  
  
John slipped his hand beneath the dark fairy's, so that he was now in possession of Roger's heart. He was relieved to feel it was still beating.  
  
That relief gave him courage. With a voice that was dripping with resentment, John looked the dark fairy straight in the eye and murmured, "Because who needs you!"  
  
The dark fairy's hand shot out so fast it made John dizzy; he winced as she gripped his chin in her icy fingers. The dark look that passed over her face - _Veronica's_ face - and the hate that filled her eyes - _Veronica's_ eyes - was enough to poison his heart.  
  
Because Veronica always smiled pleasantly when she saw him.  
  
Uncharacteristic rage burned in John's belly because how _dare_ the dark fairy steal the pure, lovely form of Veronica to trick him! How _dare_ she claim him as her own! He had wasted so many nights in the woods...  
  
John's voice was strangled as he tried to project some of his anger towards her. "I believed you! Went on my knees to you!"  
  
The dark fairy was not impressed. "Even so, you weren't as easy to possess as Roger here. I could never convince you to fully give in to your desire, could I? Deep down, you always knew I wasn't really _her."_  
  
She leaned forward, squeezing John's chin painfully and grinning darkly as she showed him all of Veronica's perfectly straight teeth. "I've been generous, John, by tolerating your rebellious streak. By allowing you see _who I really am._ But don't you dare forget that I can easily break down your defenses and make you my slave once more!"  
  
A sharp rustling of leaves suddenly silenced the dark fairy. As she and John glanced quickly into the night, they could see shadows and balls of fire moving through the trees as men with torches came nearer.  
  
John's anger melted into alarm. Turning back to the dark fairy, he begged her to let Roger go.  
  
"Tell me why I should grant your request," the dark fairy demanded.  
  
John glared at her.  
  
The dark fairy shrugged, before she released John's chin and raised her wrist. "Cat got your tongue, my love? You better be convincing. With a flick of my wrist, I can take Roger's life now. Or..." She pointed her chin in the direction of the advancing mob. "...we can leave him to the hangman's noose, if you'd prefer."  
  
The witch hunters were so close that the ground had begun to tremble under the weight of their footsteps. Any moment, they'd emerge from the trees and find them...  
  
John's panic rose to a fever pitch as he cried out, "Take me instead!"   
  
The dark fairy regarded him thoughtfully. "Roger's heart...for your soul?"  
  
John's eyes flared with impatience. "Just _do_ it!"  
  
The dark fairy nodded, satisfied, and held out her hand. "It's time I took my place in hell. It's time I chose my replacement."   
  
John reluctantly placed his wrist in her palm and looked away.  
  
The pain that followed was excruciating. John grit his teeth as his body shook with the force of her dark power, as he desperately wondered what exactly she was doing to him.  
  
Whatever it was, she didn't have time to finish the job, for the shouts of the hunters were growing closer.  
  
"I'll call for you tomorrow night on All Hallows' Eve," the dark fairy murmured. "Then, I'll finish what I started and you'll become the darkest fae there ever was."  
  
And with a soft laugh that sent a shiver down John's spine, she disappeared.  
  
Knowing he didn't have a moment to spare, John slipped into the pond, dragging Roger's unconscious body into the water behind him. He managed to tuck them safely away in a rocky alcove just as the men burst forth from the trees. He held his breath as their thundering footsteps shook the ground overhead and their shouts echoed off the water.  
  
Roger chose this particularly inconvenient moment to regain consciousness. John felt Roger's muscles tense in alarm as he realized that not only was he in the dark fairy's pond, he was also being held captive by a pair of arms. He began to struggle wildly as he cried out in alarm.  
  
Though his shout was drowned out by the howling of the wind, John clamped a hand over Roger's mouth and whispered, "Ssshh!"   
  
Water splashed into John's eyes as Roger squirmed like a wriggling fish in John's grasp, fighting to be free.  
  
"What was that!" A deep voice from above demanded.  
  
There was silence as the men all stopped to listen.  
  
John wrapped Roger in a death grip as he put his lips close to his ear and murmured, "Roger, _stop_. It's me! It's Deaky..."  
  
Roger gradually relaxed. Only once the small witch hunting mob had dismissed the sound and vanished into the darkest depths of the forest did John take his hand away from Roger's mouth.  
  
Roger's voice was laced with fear as he moaned, "Deaky, she's going to kill me, I know she is..." His hand fumbled for John's.  
  
John clasped his mate's fingers tightly, recognizing that Roger's grip was tight with panic. "She's gone, Roger," he murmured. "She's never going to hurt you again."  
  
As Roger went limp with relief, John stared up at the dark sky, wishing he could say the same for himself.  
  
"Deaky?" Roger asked suddenly. "Why are you glowing?"  
  
John glanced down at his hand, still holding Roger's, and saw that his skin _had_ taken on a strange, red hue.  
  
The color of dying roses. Just like the dark fairy.  
  
John didn't have the heart to tell Roger of the sacrifice he had made. He merely shrugged as a few black clouds ambled past, revealing a moon that was bright, white, and pure, just like...  
  
...just like Veronica. Biting his lip and leaning his head forlornly against a wet rock, John whispered a broken apology, though he wasn't sure if it was meant for himself...  
  
...or for the girl who would now never know just how much he loved her.  
  
\---  
  
Halloween dawned dark and cold. Roger and his mates barricaded themselves within the cottage and spent the day peeking out from the curtains and double checking the locks.  
  
But when the bang on the door came at dusk, they were forced to admit the town's constable. It was, after all, the law.  
  
John wasn't there when Brian opened the door. He was locked in the washroom, dreading his upcoming transformation into the dark fairy, when the town's constable stepped into the parlor to read out the warrant for Roger's arrest, announcing that one of Roger's patients had come forward after noticing a strange mark on the dentist's wrist.  
  
The constable's booming voice, along with Freddie's enraged shout, caught John's attention. His trembling fingers wrestled with the lock on the washroom door as a pair of accompanying jailors dragged Roger out of the cottage in shackles.  
  
John was already rolling up his left sleeve as he ran into the parlor, intent on showing the constable the newly singed dark mark on his wrist, the one that hadn't stopped bleeding since the night before.  
  
But he was too late.  
  
Stumbling out of the cottage, John sunk to his knees amongst the pumpkins as the carriage that was taking Roger away rattled along the old dirt road. It was useless to try and chase it but Freddie did that anyway, waving his arms and shouting obscenities. A few feet away, Brian leaned heavily against the rickety old fence as he dropped his face into his hands.  
  
The cold evening air brushed John's left forearm, grazing the incriminating evidence of his own war with the dark fairy. As the dark mark mocked him, it almost seemed to say...  
  
 _That should have been you instead of Roger. And you know it.  
_  
\---  
  
Roger was given a fair trial, though they needn't have bothered. Proud as ever, Roger adamantly denied his own guilt and refused to acknowledge that he had done anything wrong. He declined to explain the dark mark on his wrist and he went a step further by spurning the town and insulting the jury.  
  
He fought them to the last, even as he was pushed up the dark hillside, even as he was forced up the steps of the scaffold and faced with the terrifying noose that hung from the tallest tree.  
  
But rather than allow the executioners to lead him to his doom, Roger wrenched himself away and pressed his hands over his ears, a gesture that was rife with childlike innocence.   
  
He had felt he had to; the surrounding noise was threatening to drown him in a swirling tide of panic. The enraged cries of the townspeople, Brian's insistent pleas, Freddie's nonsensical threats, the constable once more shouting out his crimes...it was all too much, too soon...  
  
Roger squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the executioners to grab his hands and force them behind his back. But instead, the pandemonium faded away as he was enveloped in a pair of reassuring arms.  
  
The roar of sound disappeared, leaving an angelic silence in it's wake. For a moment, Roger thought he was already dead, until strands of soft brown hair tickled his nose and he recognized John's calming presence.   
  
There was no doubt in Roger's mind that the executioners would tear him away. Trying to delay that inevitable moment, Roger clung to John, vaguely impressed that his mate had managed to evade the executioners in the first place as he stormed the scaffold, just to give Roger the comfort of a goodbye hug.   
  
Burying his face in John's shoulder, Roger finally surrendered to his fear, just like he had once surrendered to the dark fairy in the wood.

\---  
  
"Deaky, I'm sorry!" Roger cried. "I'm so sorry for being an arse, for being so difficult when you were just trying to help!"  
  
John tightened his hold on Roger and glared at the executioners who were timidly approaching.  
  
"You're a good mate, Deaky," Roger rambled on miserably. "The best, in fact. And I'm going to miss you. Though I don't know if it's possible for dead people to miss their mates...maybe I'll be a ghost and come visit? Yeah, a ghost..."  
  
John numbly nodded, eying the executioners, waiting for his moment to strike.  
  
"And you can bet I'm going to find that dark fairy and give her hell!" Roger added darkly. "And I'm going to..."  
  
Just as the executioners reached their grimy hands out, John pushed Roger off the scaffold. Very luckily, Brian was there to bear the brunt of Roger's rather ungraceful fall.  
  
John nearly ripped his sleeve in two as he thrust his arm in the air to reveal the haunting trail of dark marks that lined his skin. Never one to be particularly loud or flashy, John forced himself to cry out into the night, "Roger is innocent! I tainted him with the dark mark!"  
  
Rather than quake with fear, as John had hoped, the constable sighed, visibly annoyed. "Very well, but your trial will have to wait 'til the morning, when..."  
  
"Why bother!" John retorted. "I've admitted it, haven't I?"  
  
Eying John distastefully, the constable nodded at the executioners, who roughly secured him and tied his hands behind his back. As they draped the noose over his neck, Brian and Freddie lunged forward, prepared to defend their friend, but John imperceptibly shook his head, his eyes pleading with them to keep silent, to keep still.  
  
Roger, on the other hand, refused to be quiet. John winced as his frantic shouts filled the air, reverberating from a throat that was quickly becoming raw with emotion. Roger would most likely have jumped upon the scaffold and throttled the executioners if Freddie and Brian hadn't been holding him back.  
  
As the constable read the formal declaration of witchcraft, John gazed wistfully at his three mates; Roger, his cheeks burning red as he flailed against the arms that held him in place; Brian, his face lined with horror as he tried - and failed - to offer John a reassuring smile; and Freddie, his bottom lip trembling as he sniffed back tears of rage.  
  
A light in the distance caught John's eye. Squinting, he could see it was coming from the bell tower of the church at the other side of town. A small smile tugged at his lips as he thought about the kind young woman who was no doubt safe within the church walls.  
  
\---  
  
It's not particularly easy watching your best friend prepare to die.  
  
And yet, that's exactly what Freddie, Brian, and Roger were doing as they clung desperately to each other, suspended in a haze of petrified dread.   
  
But that dread evaporated into an electrifying shock as John's eyes glowed a deep, intense red. And just as the constable was making the hand motion that indicated the moment of execution had arrived, John disappeared, his body erupting into a flurry of bats.   
  
The crowd screamed in fright and ducked low to the ground as the bats swarmed in a dozen different directions before they rose high into the sky, bypassing the moon as they flew towards the church.  
  
Cries of _witch!_ pierced the air as the townsfolk shrieked in alarm. Roger gaped at the departing winged creatures of the night, before he spun around, searching for some indication that John was still there. "Where the fuck is he?"  
  
Freddie, clutching his cloak close to his body like a security blanket, murmured, "The hell if I know where he went, darling."  
  
Brian was staring at the empty noose now swinging in the breeze. "Don't look at me!"  
  
The constable shouted to the crowd, warning everyone to return to their homes and lock their doors. As Freddie, Brian, and Roger hurried down the hill, Freddie finally set free the bewildering thought they were all harboring.  
  
"Well fuck me blind," he whispered. "We've been living with _the dark one_ all along."  
  
\---  
  
"Roger?"  
  
Squirming in protest, Roger resisted the hands that were trying to grip his shoulders.  
  
 _"Roger!"  
  
_ Waking with a shout, Roger seized the wrists of his captor. His wild blue eyes darted around fearfully, until his restless gaze finally fell upon Freddie.  
  
They weren't on the hill; the scaffold was nowhere to be found. But there, a few feet away, was the cornfield.  
  
Knowing perfectly well that the cornfield led to the dark fairy, Roger yelped in panic and scrambled to his feet. He turned, expecting the safety of the cottage, but was faced with something entirely different.  
  
A car...  
  
Whirling around, Roger demanded to know his whereabouts.  
  
Freddie sighed. "You really are drunk, aren't you, darling?"  
  
Brian emerged from the other side of the car. "You're on the side of the road, Roger. We were on our way back from that Halloween party in London when the car broke down, remember?"  
  
Roger narrowed his eyes suspiciously and frowned.  
  
"No, of course you don't remember, because you're smashed!" Freddie remarked. "Thank God Brian and Deaky have the car fixed now and we can take you home where you belong!"  
  
Roger's eyes widened hopefully. "Deaky's here?"  
  
Freddie stared at Roger incredulously. "Well, where else would he be, darling?"  
  
The hood of the car closed with a bang, revealing John. Roger lunged forward, knocking a wrench from John's hand as he threw his arounds around the bassist, and cried out, "Deaky, you're alive!"  
  
John patted Roger's back awkwardly. "Erm, yes, last I checked."  
  
Releasing Deaky, Roger beamed at Brian. "It was just a dream, Brian! Just a terrible, terrible dream!"  
  
Brian raised his eyebrows. "All right, Roger, whatever you say."  
  
Buoyant with relief, Roger practically floated to the car, even allowing Freddie to tuck him safely into the backseat. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and sighed happily.  
  
Thank God he didn't open his eyes. Thank God he didn't turn around.  
  
Because if he had, he would have seen John standing under the light of a moon red as blood, staring into the cornfield.  
  
He would have seen John, the corner of his mouth twitching into a dark smile as his eyes glowed a deep, intense red.  
  
A terrible dream, indeed, Roger.   
  
_Or was it?_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> Potential sequel coming soon.


End file.
